


Starlight

by Katseester



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katseester/pseuds/Katseester
Summary: He would not break, not so easily. Not for one such as Aaravos, beautiful and terrible and distant and bright, like so many stars in the night sky.But oh, how he ached to.Spoilers up to the end of season 3.
Relationships: Aaravos/Viren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I've fallen ass-first into this ship and I don't know what I'm doing.

It was a miserable thing, recovering from death.

It wasn't so much the physical weakness - Viren had never been strong, had never possessed a physicality his work did not demand, and so did not find his sapped strength overly concerning; dark magic required sacrifices, and days abed seemed more than a fair trade for his life.

No, the thing that bothered him was the cold. His body just couldn't seem to get used to a living temperature again, had in fact adamantly refused Claudia's circulation improvement spell, and so Viren resigned himself to his shivering fate. He had a theory that as his magical channels recovered so too would his body temperature, and was eager to see whether his hypothesis would be disproven.

There could be worse things in life.

He could still be dead.

Claudia had skinned and prepared the pelts of several animals unfortunate enough to wander too close to her misleading innocence. It meant they remained warm at night when the chill crept in close and the underground stone leeched any remaining heat from their bodies. It meant they could survive until the growing, pulsating, revolting chrysalis resolved itself or died, Viren told himself he didn't care which.

They used the inedible organs and bones of the creatures to create dried preserves from the flesh.

(Claudia insisted it would taste better this way and therefore have less of a chance of driving them insane due to food boredom, and he never could argue with her strange logic, not when she looked at him with such adoration and trust and loyalty.)

And then Claudia left.

She told him she was going to find Soren and drag him back by his ear, kicking and screaming, if she had to. Viren didn't doubt she would - or she would try her best. His son possessed a stubborn streak a mile wide and now that Soren had decided he'd rather kill his own father than perform any deed that could be deemed morally questionable for the betterment of their kingdom, well - Viren was unaffected by the prospect of his daughter's failure.

He let her go because he knew - could feel it, pumping through his veins, right down to the core of his very being where he and Aaravos were intrinsically intertwined - that soon the chrysalis would hatch. He did not want his daughter in the way of whatever would happen following that event.

So Claudia left, and she left the sunfire staff with him, along with most of their pooled leftover spell catalysts. For whatever came out of the chrysalis, presumably. She didn't say, and Viren didn't ask.

He spent a few days alone, wallowing in the hastily stitched-together furs as he allowed his channels to strengthen. It would not do to be unable to cast due to a depletion of spiritual energy. It was with this mindset that he settled down to sleep every night; perpetual wakefulness would only weaken him further, and he would likely need his strength for whatever the future held for him.

* * *

Viren woke, suddenly, to an enveloping warmth that was distinctly different from the familiar patchwork furs. This warmth - this easy, tempting warmth a balm that soothed his body and spirit, this warmth filling him to the tips of his toes, exactly what he craved - the chrysalis must have hatched while he slept. He laughed at his own ineptitude; how had he expected to fight off a potential attack, again?

"This is not what I expected," Viren said, and the arm slung over his shoulder tightened, drawing him further back into that blissful comfort.

"No?" Aaravos purred, voice so exquisitely close to the shell of Viren's ear; he shivered at the brush of the elf's lips on his skin, and inwardly cursed his weakness. That he should be reduced to a trembling mess at the barest hint of contact -

"I daresay you've been expecting this - hoping for it - for a long time. Since we met, I would guess," Aaravos continued, heedless of Viren's squirming beneath his touch. "It's been so long since anyone's touched you, you've almost forgotten the feeling of another being's life..."

Viren had the feeling Aaravos was no longer talking about him, or even to him. He allowed it to pass without comment, and allowed the elf to run his hands, palms flat and smooth, over the planes of his body, focusing on the controlled measure of his breath as Aaravos explored every inch of him without a hint of shame or restraint.

Aaravos was, as always, infuriatingly correct. Viren wanted know what the enigmatic elf felt like, what he tasted like, how he smelled. He wanted - he wanted so much more than he could have, so much more than he had the  _right_ to have, and that had always been his weakness, hadn't it? Desiring that which lay beyond his station, beyond his ilk, beyond his ken. Beyond his authority.

Even so, he ached for that which he could not have, ached for it with the strength and intensity and capacity of one thousand smouldering stars, ached for it so keenly the exhaustion of it crushed him until it was all he could do to maintain a semblance of composure.

He would not break, not so easily. Not for one such as Aaravos, beautiful and terrible and distant and bright, like so many stars in the night sky.

But oh, how he ached to.

"I'm - letting you do this," Viren reminded him, reminded himself. He was afloat, adrift, a raft lost at sea, searching desperately for any sign of land as the waters around him churned, torrential.

"Yes," Aaravos murmured, and didn't give Viren time to ponder his easy agreement; the elf's hand tickled along his ribcage before entrapping a nipple between two slender fingers, applying just enough pressure between the rolling digits to make Viren gasp out an expletive.

His other hand had dipped perilously low, thumb and forefinger running curiously along the inside seam of Viren's trousers, tracing the shape of him while being careful to avert his touch from where Viren ached viscerally.

Viren would not beg. He would not be reduced to the act, would not let this beautifully inhuman creature see him brought so low. Aaravos could take all the time in the world to map him out beneath his fingers - after all, Viren was allowing him this.

Finally, Aaravos' hand dragged deliciously over his groin to palm him, grinding and gyrating and squeezing just so, but it wasn't enough; Viren needed to feel the warmth and slickness of his hand, that primal contact of skin pressed against skin, please, gods, it had been too long -

A sharp keening noise clawed its way, unbidden, from his throat, and Aaravos nipped at the curve of his ear in response, hand stilling upon Viren's groin before withdrawing completely. Viren, displeased, ground back against him and was vindicated to note the press of Aaravos' arousal against his backside, the tremor in his gasp.

Viren was not the only one, it seemed, who craved more.

He threw a hand behind him, intent on securing Aaravos by the hip so as not to allow the elf to run away from the delicious friction between them, and his grasping fingers met bare skin, smooth and soft and warm. He could imagine the stars upon him pulsing with life, or anticipation, or perhaps even -

He closed his eyes on that image, and let Aaravos vanish his trousers and undergarments, and,  _oh_ , how he had wanted this, had wanted to know how the elf's prick felt nestled up against him. He'd thought about it, sometimes, on those sleepless nights where his thoughts raced ahead to all sorts of unlikely scenarios.

Not so unlikely, this one, it was looking like.

He could come now, he thought. Untouched, painfully hard, leaking onto the makeshift bedroll below him. Aaravos would make sure of it; his fingers had found Viren's nipples again and he was breathing hotly into the crook of Viren's neck, swollen prick rutting languidly and enticingly along his entrance.

Viren did not take the bait. He knew if he let Aaravos fuck him it would be good, incredibly good, probably the best fuck of his life, and his body yearned for that release, but he did not take the bait.

Instead, he pushed himself further onto Aaravos' lap - ignored the elf's delighted, intrigued hum - and clamped his thighs around Aaravos' length. Aaravos uttered several words in a language Viren had never heard of, and then his teeth were sinking sharply into Viren's shoulder, pain and pleasure pulsing within him, scorching him so hot he thought he might immolate from the inside out. He wanted Aaravos to move, wanted to feel him moving against him, wanted to know how his body would stiffen and jerk and squirm as he succumbed to the throes of pleasure and lust. He wanted it so badly, was agonizingly stiff for it, but he would not ask. He would never ask.

"My dear mage," Aaravos whispered, impossibly close, "you need but only say the word."

He couldn't think through the heady fog in his brain; he was was dimly annoyed at himself for getting into this situation in the first place, not being as diligent as he should have, but then some traitorous little voice in his brain told him that this was what he  _wanted_ , wasn't it, to surrender completely and to submit, to serve until his body lay battered and used, tossed aside as some cheap toy?

He quashed down that humiliating thought before he could explore it further. What he wanted - he wanted Aaravos to fuck his thighs until he came, wanted to know the unknowable feeling of starlight within him. Wanted, and wanted, and wanted, and didn't say any of it. Aaravos' hands were never still throughout his thinking and wanting, tracing delicate fingers over his bare skin, his cock stiff and hot and still between Viren's legs.

Without warning him Viren angled his legs and hips forward, friction dragging Aaravos' cock deliciously against his for a brief moment, and that one movement seemed to ignite something in the elf; he hissed, hand clamping down on Viren's hip, impossibly strong and allowing no measure of escape, and then he began to move, and Viren swore he could see stars.

Aaravos thrust through his legs, and his prick was hot and slick with precome, and it nudged up against Viren's arousal in such a frustratingly tantalizing way that his breaths were soon stuttering through his chest in an erratic, staccato rhythm. Aaravos' quiet sounds of pleasure were even worse; his lips brushed hot against Viren's ear, his small gasps and moans unimaginably sensual, so carnal and raw Viren thought he might lose control and overflow from the sound alone.

Aaravos kissed him as he came, hungry and searching and desperate for Viren's touch, and in that moment of vulnerability Viren was woven finely into the fabric of Aaravos and the cosmos and the universe in a way he had never imagined feasible: he was stardust, he was nebulae, he was infinite.

He was nothing.

He was everything, and everywhere, and every immeasurable inch of him was on fire, burning with wave upon wave upon wave of pleasure.

It was all too much for Viren. He came, a sob ripping through him as he writhed against Aaravos behind him; the elf held him through his spasms, whispered sweet words to him while his cock jerked, untouched, coating his stomach and chest with more semen than he ought to have been capable of.

And just as quickly as it came, the feeling of starlight faded, and he was simply Viren: small, and insignificant, and pathetic, and human.

He was Viren, and Aaravos' chest was heaving magnificently against his back, and that was, Viren was gratified to note through the haze of satisfaction in his mind, the best fuck of his entire life anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this reads as weird as it was to write.
> 
> Anyway in season 4 they should kiss.


End file.
